


Chat Noir's oldest.

by I_writewhatiwant



Series: Chat Noir's family [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, M/M, future kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 23:31:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7142840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_writewhatiwant/pseuds/I_writewhatiwant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis Agreste is seven the first time someone tells him crying is not manly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chat Noir's oldest.

Louis Agreste is seven the first time someone tells him crying is not manly.

 

His knee is throbbing, red blood dripping from a cut when the teacher frowns at him.

 

 “Why are you crying?” she asks, taking him by the arm.

 

“It hurts” he says, his little voice quivering.

 

“Well, you’re a boy, and boys don’t cry. It’s not manly”

 

He tries to stop, but it hurts.

 

Later, his father sits him on the kitchen counter, with a small Emma tugging at his pants, and cleans his wound again. His mother is cooking his favorite cookies, with chocolate chips, her belly really big and a smile on her face.

 

“Well, it didn’t hurt?” his father smiles, tapping his nose “You didn’t cry”

 

“Crying is not manly” he says, frowning and with tears in his eyes.

 

He misses the look his parents share, and the frown on their faces.

 

He never goes back to that school.

 

* * *

 

When he’s nine, he wants to be a teacher like his dad was.

 

Emma frowns at him, hands on her hips.

 

“I want to be like dad, so you have to be like mom!” she sticks out her tongue as their mother laughs, rocking their baby brother who has his hair and his eyes, and says they both can be like dad if designing is boring.

 

But clothes are not boring, not when he gets them from his mom, and not when he looks at his mom’s sketches and imagines the clothes he could make.

 

* * *

 

He’s ten the first time he gets a crush, and love for him is his mother peppering his face with kisses, his father’s laugh as he tickles him, little Emma giggling on his ear as he gives her a piggyback ride, Hugo’s little fingers touching his face. Love is his parents dancing on the living room, the shared looks they have with endless, voiceless words.

 

The boy that sits with him smiles brightly with shining eyes and his heart starts beating fast. He gets tongue tied and painfully shy, so the boy looks at him weirdly. He’s not sure why it happens, but it feels nice so it can’t really be bad, right?

 

He stares at the darkness for hours that night.

 

* * *

 

The next time he gets a crush, the girl wears her hair on a braid and the freckles on her face are almost as cute as Hugo is.

 

He still gets tongue tied, and his voice is uneven like most of his classmate’s.

 

He’s thirteen and he falls _hard_.

 

When the girl says she likes someone else, his mother bakes him cookies and his father tells him how he met his mother.

 

By the time he falls asleep, he’s still in love with her.

 

* * *

 

When Louis is fourteen, he’s sure he wants to be like his mom and his Grandpa Gabriel.

 

He’s not that close to the man, but his clothes are all over internet and man, he’s _good_.

 

Almost as good as his mother.

 

* * *

 

His first girlfriend is called Claire and she’s beautiful.

 

His parents approve easily, with happy smiles and dad jokes.

 

He likes the way her clothes are as colorful as his sketches and she likes the way his smile makes her feel.

 

They last a year before they fall out of love.

 

He tries to tell himself it doesn’t hurt that much.

 

It does.

 

* * *

 

Louis is fifteen and he has a crush again, but this time he has never talked to the guy.

 

He helps his mother with a photoshoot and tries to hide the way he keeps staring at the model, but his mother is a mother and catches him easily.

 

“We Dupain people like to fall for models, don’t we?” she smiles, handing him the next jacket the boy has to use and winking.

 

He blushes and tries really hard to say something coherent.

 

He fails.

 

* * *

 

He’s seventeen and almost out of school when the rumors start.

 

He’s not sure what to do the first time, when people look at him and turn their heads around.

 

After a while, he learns to look down and stop listening.

 

Emma asks if something is wrong, her hand holding Hugo’s as they wait outside their grandparent’s bakery for him.

 

He shakes his head and fakes a smile.

 

* * *

 

Two months later, late at night when they are lying on the floor as they try and fail to sleep, Emma whispers over Hugo’s breathing that she can’t conceive how people can fall in love without _really_ knowing each other.  

 

He whispers back that he can’t understand how people can _not_ like both boys and girls.

 

Emma laughs really loudly.

 

“I _knew_ I saw you staring at Jean’s ass”

 

“Emma, shut up!” he hisses, rolling to cover her mouth.

 

She frowns for a second, before her eyes soften. When she speaks, her voice is muffled by his hand.

 

“I won’t tell anyone unless you want me to. It’s okay, Lou” she then licks his hand and the moment is lost.

 

But not completely, he thinks as he wipes his hand on her face and she smiles, tender eyes and closed lips.

 

* * *

 

When he is eighteen, just a few months before graduating, a pair of earrings appears on his desk.

 

“Louis!” the creature says, flying to his face and hugging his nose.

 

She later introduces herself as Tikki and explains everything.

 

“You could be called Red Beetle, I suppose”

 

“Why? It’s…it’s a ladybug, right? So I’ll be called Ladybug”

 

“Other have not been comfortable with that name, but it’s all up to you”

 

“It’s a kind of beetle. Male _and_ female are called ladybugs” he rolls his eyes and chuckles “Why are there people gendering _bugs_?”

 

* * *

 

When a reporter waves a microphone in front of his face and calls him Red Beetle, he frowns and stops him mid-sentence.

 

“It’s Ladybug” he pulls out his yoyo and throws it, swinging away.

 

Chat Noir follows him, blonde hair trailing after her.

 

* * *

 

 

“Isn’t it a little dangerous having your hair down?” he looks at her messy hair, tugging on a strand “Someone could grab it”

 

“Maybe, but I usually use it down so it just gets messier when I transform”

 

“I can braid it, if you want” he says, already scooting closer.

 

“Do you know how?”

 

“I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t”

 

He runs his fingers through her hair, untangling every knot until her hair falls straight down. Ladybug starts a French braid on the top of her head.

 

“Where did you learn this?” Chat asks, a yawn escaping her. Below them, Paris shines in the dark.

 

“I used to braid my mother’s hair, and then my sister’s. It’s just something that I enjoy” he

 

“My brother used to braid my hair”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah. Not sure why he stopped” her eyes are closed and she’s almost falling asleep. He braids her hair as much as he can, but with nothing to tie it, it starts getting loose the moment he lets it go.

 

“I’m done. Try to start using you hair up”

 

“Not promising anything”

 

“At least get home safe?”

 

“Yeah, maybe”

 

He follows her for a couple blocks before going back to his own home.

 

* * *

 

He’s close to lose her more than a couple times. She’s careless and she throws herself in the line of fire more times than he can remember-no, he does remember every one of them, late at night, when he wakes up gasping for breath because Chat Noir threw herself in front of him again.

 

“You have to stop!” he screams, throwing his arms up. It’s getting dark and he’s tired. He has homework; he’s graduating in much less than a _month_.

 

“Why? I’m saving you!”

 

“You’re risking yourself!” he turns around, his hands flying to his head.

 

“You are more important, I can’t-”

 

“You are my _partner_. I can’t do this without you. So you have to stop” he faces her, scowling.

 

“I. Won’t!” she damn close snarls, her blue eyes shining in the setting sun.

 

“Stop being so stubborn, E-!” he stops himself before he can make a mistake.

 

She looks too much like Emma. She has the same hair. She has blue eyes, like his little sister.

 

“Chat Noir. Stop being so stubborn, Chat Noir” he turns around, the ghost of tears in the corners of his eyes “I…I have to go now”

 

But she’s not her, thank god.

 

* * *

 

Louis looks like his mother. Same hair, same eyes. Same freckles. And, unluckily, he also gets her tendency for tripping over _nothing_.

 

“I’m really sorry!” he says to the man he just crushed outside his university “It’s my fault, it was an accident!” he pushes himself off and starts looking for his sketches.

 

“It’s not a big deal” the man laughs, raising one of his eyebrows “No blood”

 

“Shit!” Louis picks up one of his latest designs, now brown and dripping coffee. He had spent _days_ trying to get it right.

 

“Oh, no. It’s my fault”

 

“It’s okay, I was the one not looking. I…I didn’t really like it, anyway” a lie. A complete **_lie_**.

 

“Let me repay you somehow. I’ll buy you a coffee” the brown haired man smiles, offering his hand.

 

“Not a fan, but I’ll accept a cup of tea” Louis takes his hand and pulls himself up, dusting his pants off.

 

“I’m Pierre. First year of psychology”

 

“Louis. Fashion Designing”

 

* * *

 

“Louis got a daaateeee!”  Hugo dances around his bed, Louis’ phone in his hands.

 

“Hugo, _shut up_!” he say through clenched teeth. He’s not ready to tell his parents.

 

“What her naaaame? I’m going to find oout”

 

“Hugo, give my phone back, _please_!”

 

“Her name is-Pierre? How can that be a girl’s name?”

 

“It’s….It’s not. Please don’t tell mom and dad” he closes his eyes, not daring to look at his little brother.

 

“Oh…I’m sorry” Hugo falls quiet, giving Louis his phone.

 

“Huugoo? Where are you, you little tw-Hey, what with the long faces, you two?” Emma smiles from the door, leaning against it.

 

“I got a date” Louis sighs. He has kept too many secrets from Emma lately. He can’t keep pilling them.

 

“Is it Pierre? I hope it’s Pierre” she smiles, calm and supporting.

 

“What?! She knew? And I didn’t? Louis, you rotten brother!”

 

* * *

 

Pierre is sweet. He smiles when Louis blushes, and kisses his cheek the moment Louis decides they should hold hands.

 

Because c’mon, he was not going to be ashamed. He would not duck his head, not anymore.

 

* * *

 

The moment he sees a little black creature floating above the stairs, he freezes. That little creature yelling at his father can only mean one thing, and as his eyes fly to look at Emma, he knows.

 

It was, somehow, impossible to unseen Chat Noir, and it stung like hell.

 

Chat Noir was his little sister. The one who kept all his secrets except one, the little girl who said say ‘damn it all’ when he was troubled and leaned on him when she was sad.

 

And, of course, it all made complete sense. How could it not? Emma was basically Louis’ best friend, and Chat Noir was Ladybug’s.

 

It made sense, finally.

 

* * *

 

Before Hugo starts helping, he confesses his identity to Emma. Hugo can’t know, not for now, he says, and he means it.

 

He’d be damned before his little brother feels left out.

 

* * *

 

He must be damned, because that is exactly what happens.

 

Tikki feels guilty for days. She was, after all, the one who wanted for him to tell his family that he was Ladybug.

 

He tries to tell her otherwise, but she doesn’t really listen to him.

 

His father doesn’t help much.

 

He doesn’t let it show much, but Louis can see how it affected him.

 

One afternoon, when he’s back from classes, he sees his father siting on the table with a mug in front of him, not really seeing.

 

“Dad” he calls. His father looks at him, but his eyes are almost empty.

 

“Yes?” he tries to muster up a smile, but he fails.

 

His mother is not much better.

 

“It wasn’t your fault, you know?” he lets his bag falls and sits beside him, putting one hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t”

 

His father cries then.

 

* * *

 

Pierre is kissing his neck as they are lying on his couch when he feels he can’t keep that one secret.

 

“Pierre” he whispers “Stop”

 

“Something wrong?” he doesn’t hesitate to pull away, concern shinning clear on his eyes.

 

“I need to tell you something”

 

“Is it bad?” he sits straight, helping Louis up.

 

“No. Well. It depends, I suppose? Look, it’s really hard for me-”

 

“You are not straight, right?”

 

“What? I’m bisexual!” he shakes his head, rolling his eyes.

 

“Glad we clarified that. Keep going”

 

“Only very close people know, but I can’t keep it from you-” he braces himself and takes a deep breath “I’m Ladybug”

 

Pierre stays silent for a second before chuckling.

 

“If you are into that, well-”

 

“No, I mean it! I really am him!” that quiets him, whose eyes widen at his revelation.

 

“Really?” Pierre whispers. Louis is scared, he’s in love but Ladybug is a part of himself. He couldn’t give it up.

 

He nods.

 

“Prove it”

 

Clenching his eyes shut, he stands.

 

“Tikki. Transform me” his voice is quiet, but Tikki hears his call.

 

In a flash of pink, he transforms from being Louis, a Fashion Design student, to Ladybug, protector of Paris.

 

Pierre is speechless for a moment.

 

“Are you always careful?” he says, standing to grab Louis’ hands.

 

“Yes”

 

“Good” his lips are soft against his own, and everything he wishes for in that moment.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m marrying Pierre” he says while they eat dinner the nest night, looking up slowly.

 

His father smiles the smile that makes his eyes close.


End file.
